


Cost of War

by eenimeeniminimo



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, DON'T SHIP REAL PEOPLE, Dadza, Death, DreamSMP - Freeform, Family, Insane Wilbur, i want you to sob, idk how tagging works help, l'manberg, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eenimeeniminimo/pseuds/eenimeeniminimo
Summary: There once was a king with 3 sons. Each was loyal brave and true. He raised them well, assured in the knowledge that they would always be there for each other - even if he wasn't.but life has a funny way of breaking people, even the most virtuous(tl;dr philza pov on the happenings of the dream smp and the destruction of l'manberg)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Cost of War

**Author's Note:**

> if any of the creators are uncomfortable with this I'll take it down right away. just wanted philzas perspective on things

philza was not surprised when wilbur left. he knew it was coming. it was as clear as night turns to day. his son, a natural born leader, was not fit to stay crowded in a castle under somebody else.

when tommy followed him it was more of a shock but still to be expected. for years tommy had turned, not towards him, but towards his brother for gratification or condemnation.

luckily his eldest stayed close. as the winter drew near and the bustle of the city began to slow they spent many nights together -talking until the candle had burnt at both ends.

until, one day, a grave expression fell over his sons face and phil felt his heart go cold as his eldest explained he would be leaving to help. as always he extended a veneer of calm but looking up (he had to look up now) he could see the glint of hesitation in his sons eyes.

closing his eyes phil pretended to think but he already knew his answer. he had always taught the boys to be true to each other and have each other's back until the end. mind made he let his eldest go, and watched his red cloak faded into the icy fog.

as winter drew to a close and spring blossomed phil was far to busy to think about his boys (although some nights all he could think was a monotonous voice talking to him) he always had more tasks to do (but the silence still shocked him. the air empty without the strings of a guitar being plucked) and more people to see (even though he still hesitated before leaving his quarters, still expecting blonde hair and bright eyes to greet him and explain a new days adventure)

it was on a day like this (so cold, so empty, so strange) when whispers of war and betrayal reached philzas ears. and his heart froze.

they spoke of a monstrous boar who's eyes glinted red. "the last thing you see before you die is the flash of velvet satisfaction in his gaze" they said.

utterance of a great man gone mad reached his ears. "i heard that he dealt with so much, his mind finally cracked. he plans to destroy everything." they spoke, in fast breathless tones.

and finally they spoke of a boy, who's trailed behind the mad man like a kicked dog. "i almost feel bad" sympathetic voices rose in harmony "the boys gaze is flat and empty. he is so quiet, mute, almost. apparently he barely speaks more then a few words." a shaken head, "poor dear"

phil froze for he knew those boys, he knew them very well.

and so phil left at once, trailing the footsteps of his wayward sons.

for days he flew, without stop until the land had turned from cold packed stone to soft wistful grass and the hard sharp corners of home had turned into gentle rising slopes.

"hey traveler" a voice called and phil stopped "are you looking for something?" a figure stood in the path and when phil looked down he saw a smiling, vacant mask covering the strangers face "or perhaps, someone?" 

it was silent, phil licked his lips. they were dry and cracked from nonstop cold flight. he landed gingerly on the path, trying to hide his wobbly legs, weak from misuse.

"what do you want from me?" his voice cracked and he winced. he was far from the great king he claimed. in the hands of a knowledgeable stranger his facade cracked and left behind only the worried father underneath.

"you are looking for multiple someone's, i reckon. do the names 'wilbur, techno and tommy' ring a bell for you?" the masked man tilted his head, a picture of innocence. phil could feel his chest squeeze and heart race with a build of emotion that almost left him breathless.

"please, can you point me in their direction" he fell to the floor, "I'll give anything, anything" he pleaded, grovelled. what a pathetic king.

"hrm, anything you say?" the figure cackled and wheezed, a great joke that only he knew. "no that won't be nessesecary, this is show enough! due west you will find what you're looking for - i just hope you're not too late!" and with one last wheeze the man vanished as if he had simply never been there, leaving phil kneeling on the floor as if praying to some sort of deity.

and phil flew, he flew until his wings ached, until his gaze was blurry and body completely worn flat.

but sometimes the best haste makes not the speed of man. 

for all the times he had made, for all he has arranged and built, for the legacy that will outlast him- 

the one time he was needed he wasn't there.

people will oft speak of legends, of heros and villains, black and white but sometimes the scariest stories can be found within reality.

phil returns home with a bloodied yellow jumper and broken crown clutched in each hand.

one day he will gather the strength to lay the remnants to rest.

one day he will have the strength to return to his throne

one day phil will be able to visit again and see his youngest (only) son. 

his eyes will never be as bright as they once were, always dulled by his time spent around darkness. his youngest will never leave the small area around his house again, content with the smell of fresh grass and sun.

phil will never be able to walk through his castle without the shadows of ancient memories haunting him. sometimes he can swear that he hears a low voice talking next to him as he stares at the fire. he swears he can hear two chaotic voices laughing and creating chaos, he swears he can hear the gentle strum of a guitar.

but then he blinks and it's gone, only cold fire left over.

one day, and never. one day and never. such is the way of life.

one day phil will be able to pick himself up and contemplate the Never Agains but for now all he can do is clutch the remains of his children close and cry.

**Author's Note:**

> haha, pain


End file.
